


It Doesn't Always Stay In Vegas

by needleyecandy



Series: Silly September [7]
Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Drinking, Las Vegas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 02:39:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4811852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/needleyecandy/pseuds/needleyecandy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor and Loki meet at a conference. It's in Vegas. And despite what they claim in the ads, what happens in Vegas...</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Doesn't Always Stay In Vegas

**Author's Note:**

> From [a tumblr prompt](http://one-toomany.tumblr.com/post/108396487179/we-met-in-vegas-one-night-and-woke-up-next-morning).
> 
> Hello, everyone, and welcome to the second half (sob!) of Silly September. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Thor liked his job. He really did. It was interesting and rewarding and generally it was completely satisfying. He had to admit, though, that the annual national conferences he had to attend got on his nerves. Not that there was anything wrong with them, but all the conversations were so theoretical. He preferred the smaller regional conferences, events where he could go learn something and then go back and apply it. And worse, this year they were in Vegas in _July_ because the national office was cheap - and so was Vegas in July. 

He was gritting his teeth through the last of that day's rambling talks, flipping through one of the many catalogues he had picked up on the vendor floor, when a card was slipped into the middle. High, spidery script said _Don't use them, my last place contracted with them and we had nothing but problems._ He glanced to his right, to the tall, lean man who had given it to him. The man smiled and turned the card over. _Loki Friggajarson,_ his name was. Thor reached into his pocket to retrieve his card holder and gave Loki one of his own. 

Loki flipped to the back of the conference booklet, to the blank pages intended for note taking that no one ever used. _So, Thor Odinson, were you forced to eat lutefisk as a child, too?_ Thor nearly laughed out loud as he leaned over and wrote, _Every family gathering._

The rest of the talk passed without either of them taking any notice, filling nearly four pages of the booklet with shared stories about growing up as Scandinavian-Americans. Thor wasn't quite sure when he realized Loki was flirting with him, but he was quite sure he liked it. Loki was simply stunning, and his easy way with words was compelling. 

"Would you like to get dinner?" Thor asked the moment the talk ended. 

Loki's smile was brilliant. "I'd like that," he said. His voice was lovely. 

They ate and drank and flirted and it grew clear that they would not be saying goodbye that night. The tension was delicious, though, and neither was willing to cut it short. So after dinner they went to a bar in a hotel two blocks from the one reserved for the conference attendees, hoping to avoid running into anyone they knew. It worked. They drank and talked and laughed and that was the last thing he could remember until he woke up, his head feeling very much like he had broken it from the inside out. 

He was still gathering up the will to open his eyes when he heard a groan next to him. He rolled his head to the side and forced one lid to crack open just enough to see. It was Loki (thank goodness for that, at least, he thought). 

"I think I might die. Tell my mom I love her," Loki croaked. 

"No, you have to tell mine. I'm dying first." 

"Mmf. You can't die, you have to call room service. If we eat something we might yet survive." 

Thor's stomach rebelled at the thought of food, but he knew Loki was right. The phone was just so far away, on the desk at least five steps from the bed. He gathered his will and threw back the covers... 

Oh. He was completely naked. He turned to look at Loki. "Do you remember... did we?" he asked. 

"I don't remember. Considering our current state, though, it seems rather unlikely that we'd have been able to coordinate well enough," Loki said. 

"Yeah, you're right." 

Thor forced himself up with a pained grunt and staggered to the desk. The room service menu lay tossed to one side. "What do you want?" he asked, flipping it open. 

"Part of me says the greasiest thing they have, the other part says a giant stack of pancakes." 

Thor's eyes ran down the list of breakfast options. The letters blurred and danced in front of his eyes, but he managed to find what he was looking for. "Do you want anything to drink?" he asked. 

Loki groaned again. "Don't even say that word." 

"Sorry. Do you want juice or something?" 

"Yeah, OJ I guess." 

Thor picked up the phone. Staying in hotels was the only time he ever used a land line anymore, and using the handset added to the faint air of unreality that hung over the morning. 

"Hello, we need two hangover specials and a giant pitcher of orange juice, please," he said when they answered. 

"Hangover special, huh?" Loki asked after he hung up. 

Thor shrugged. "Vegas." 

"Yeah. Well, I guess we should get some clothes on before the food arrives." 

"Vegas." 

"Yeah, but still. I am, anyway." 

Loki pushed himself out of the bed, barely getting his feet beneath him in time. He staggered his way to the closet, holding on to various pieces of furniture for support. The closet was empty. "We must be in your room," he said, turning back to where his clothes from the previous day were strewn about the floor. 

"No, I have all my things hung up," Thor said. The confusion was thick in his head, like a huge wad of cotton wool. He pulled on yesterday's boxers and went through the closed bathroom door. 

Or, rather, what should have been the bathroom door. Instead it went into a sprawling living room with floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a view of the desert that would have been breathtaking were it not for the sun stabbing through his eyeballs and into his brain. "This is definitely not my room," he said. 

Loki came up behind him. "It's not mine either. What's that on the table?" he asked, pointing. 

They approached it hesitantly, as though the white lacy folder might fly up and bite them suddenly. Just as Loki was reaching out to pick it up, a sharp knock made them both jump. "I'll get it, I'm more dressed," Loki offered. 

"Thanks," Thor said. 

In the end, it didn't matter which of them was more dressed, as the server bustled right past Loki cheerfully pushing a cart that rattled far too much, and which carried not only two dome-covered plates and the requested jug of orange juice, but an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne sticking out, its neck just beginning to sweat. 

"Compliments of the hotel!" beamed the server before disappearing. 

They looked at each other. They looked at the white lacy folder on the table. The white lacy folder that Loki was opening to find inside a pack of coupons, their tops all emblazoned with _Congratulations!_ and a variety of ads for honeymoon packages, and buried underneath all of that, in the back of one of the pockets, was the inevitable. 

They stood there, staring at their marriage license. 

"Well," Loki said finally, "at least we know our families will get along." 


End file.
